Taking Fantasia
by sultal
Summary: A hogwarts-ish school in a land called Fantasia featuring Wendy, Peter, Jim, and Ariel and all other Disney characters. When the stars align, Headmaster Mickey pulls out The Magic Bag of Tricks so students discover if they are magical or destined for magical objects. But evil is afoot: Hook and Silver conspire with Disney villains to ruin Fantasia. But...they need one student.
1. Chapter 1: Best Friends

**Author's Note: Wow she actually updated, right?! So...this is my first crossover. Something fun to work on from time to time while I (1) develop my other, slightly more complex stories and (2) get murdered in school. Yay. Stress relief is a wonderful thing...**

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**Chapter One: Best Friends**

"Not again…"

Wendy jumped, squinting against the golden headlights. Frantically, the girl dried her cheeks as the solar surfer sagged to earth. Embarrassed, she looked away as a somber boy ducked beneath the luminous sails.

Disgustedly, Jim shook his head. Sighing, he settled beside Wendy. Far below them, the grey ocean gargled. Jim stared over the gusty cliff, waiting.

"You finished yet?"

Blue eyes shinning, Wendy nodded but the gesture tipped a stream of tears over her cheeks.

Jim rolled his eyes. Cursing silently, he reached around Wendy's shoulders and pulled her close. He immediately regretted the gesture when she cried harder.

"Cut it out."

Miserably, Wendy rubbed a hand across her eyes. Her neck shook beneath Jim's fingers with every attempt to stop crying.

It was pathetic and Jim scowled; he hated when she cried.

Shifting, Jim let Wendy press her nose against his jacket. Although he appreciated her attempts to muffle the weak sobs, Jim glowered all the same.

They played this game every week.

And Jim knew exactly why.

"That kid again?"

Wretchedly, she nodded.

"Pan?"

Again, a nod.

Anger boiled through Jim like hot oil. "Asshole. What happened?"

She shook her head.

"What_ happened_?"

Sniffle. "…nothing."

"Oh don't give me that crap." Twisting an arm over Wendy's head, Jim frowned as the girl pushed off his shoulder. He knew his frustration was upsetting her, but Jim could not understand why Wendy was keeping this a secret.

Jim caught Wendy crying at least once a week. It had started a while ago, ever since the beginning of the school year. Jim had just ended his last shift at the Benbow Inn to see Wendy running toward the ocean cliffs, school bag banging against her back. A quick flight later, Jim found her at their secret hideout, sobbing.

It had been a shock: Wendy never cried. Certainly, her father's manic drunkenness saddened her, but Wendy was a resilient girl. She hadn't even cried when her mother died.

Which was why, when Jim finally coaxed the reason out of her, he was angered.

"A boy?"

Standing up, Jim ground his heavy boots into the cliff.

"A boy. You're still getting worked up over a jerk ass boy. Unbelievable."

He didn't bother apologizing. By now she was use to the swearing.

Jim and Wendy were a different breed, despite their strong friendship. Fatherless, Jim lived with his mother above the Benbow Inn at the junction of shitburge and nowhere.

It was the ideal neighborhood for any abandoned mother and son wishing to live everyday in fear and serve cheap rum to the pirates and scoundrels weighing anchor on their front porch.

Wendy was the product of a once affluent bourgeoisie marriage. Wedged comfortably in a quaint, unassuming neighborhood, the girl's life crumbled following her mother's death. And although Wendy denied it, Jim was sure the bruises dotting her arms where marks of her father's reactive misery, never totally healed.

Jim had first met Wendy at this very spot. He had been a brittle little boy aching for his father. She had been a sad little girl aching for her mother. Friendship ensued. So, in reality, the two were not so different at all.

They needed each other.

And they told each other everything.

Silently, Jim joined Wendy at the cliff's edge. Wind tossed her little ponytail up and down as the waves battered the jagged docks far below. Impassively, Jim noticed the Benbow creaking against the ocean before turning to Wendy.

"You're really not going to tell me what happened?"

Wendy cleared her throat apologetically, imploring Jim with big, blue eyes.

Shrugging to her silence, Jim turned away from the ocean view.

"Whatever." The solar surfer surged to life as Jim gripped the sails. The yellow energy highlighted the shadow laid over his eyes. "I'll just find out tomorrow after I kick the crap out of him."

"Jim! Jim, you mustn't!"

"Yeah?" The solar surfer hummed angrily in Wendy's path. Balancing on the metal board, Jim leaned forward, "You wanna give me a reason not to?"

Wearily, Wendy bowed her head. The surfer's yellow reflection shimmered over her tearstains. When the girl finally spoke, she sounded worn.

"Just…just…"

Sighing, Wendy shook her head, "…just not on your first day. Not on your first day back to school."

The yellow light splashed into Wendy's blue eyes, mixing like green paint as she raised her head. "Please?"

Jim did not respond.

He hadn't attended Fantasia High School since his father left. His mom had tutored him; but the course work was getting harder and business at the Benbow was hectic these days. Jim was not thrilled about returning to the public school system, but could stomach the idea in hopes of pounding the daily-lights out of that Pan creep.

Jim knew next to nothing about Pan, neither what he looked like nor how swift his left hook was. He only knew that Pan made his best friend cry. And he hated when she cried

"Tell you what…" Tipping down the board, Jim pulled Wendy up onto the surfer. He waited as she fastened her back pack. Over their shoulders, the sun dipped below the waves.

"Promise to quit the crying," Jim said, kicking the engine ramp, "and I'll kiss the jerk instead. Deal?"

"Oh Jim…"

The engine puttered and sparked before blasting forward. Allowing his worries to burn away with the exhaust, Jim leaned into the curve of the glowing sails, unaware that Wendy, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, still had tears in her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2: Stole Aways

**Chapter Two: Stole Aways**

"Is he gone?"

"Not yet."

"…how about now?"

"Adella! Would you clam it! I said not yet!"

"Fine! Fine!" Arms crossed, Adella glared at her older sister, "My God, don't be such a witch Aquata."

"Don't be such a brat."

"Witch!"

"Brat!"

"Both of you—" Attina warned.

"Girls!"

All seven daughters of Admiral Triton jumped. In a flutter of heartbeats and guilty faces, Attina, Aquata, Andrina, Arista, Adella, Alana, and Ariel swung about to find their father filling the doorway. Petty Officer Sebastian was perched huffily on his shoulder.

"Busted." mumbled Andrina, flopping onto her bed, "…nice going, Stupid."

Adella bristled like a cat, but dared not respond as Admiral Triton stepped into the girls' seaside bedroom. Teal eyes smoldering, Adella exchanged lethal looks with Andrina before pressing a pillow to her knees.

The smoldering and smirking did not last long. As the admiral and the petty officer passed each bed, each daughter shrunk from Triton's steel blue glare.

Daddy though he was, Triton was the most feared naval officer for good reason. The admiral was a domineering figure. It was said that he tamed the ocean with a frosty glare and was merciless as a shark. A relic of impressive, magical lineage, Triton's blood was salty as Fantasia's seven seas and turbulent as his seven daughters.

His seven daughters.

Inwardly, Triton sighed.

It was bed time. Each daughter was in her pajamas. But the air was foggy with perfume and a cosmetic mess littered the vanity. The tension from muffled thoughts and breaths being held was overwhelming.

Guilty. Guilty as the little innocent smiles on their little angelic faces.

Methodically, Triton flexed the fingers clasped behind his back. Though they were behind him, the admiral knew his girls were squirming.

"Remind me..." slowly turning, Triton straightened his broad shoulders, "…._Adella_. What day is this day?"

"Oh….I ummmm…." Helplessly, Adella looked to her sisters. To her, it seemed an unfair and irrelevant question. "Day? What day is it?"

Sebastian snorted.

"Oh my God." Balancing a stuffed animal over her head, Andrina muttered, "Sunday you Moron. Right after Saturday."

Triton's eyes flickered. "Then you could tell me, _Andrina_, tomorrow's date?"

"Monn—day."

Sebastian hmphed.

"And what," continued Triton, "rotating slowly to his left, "is Monday, _Arista_?"

"A school day, Daddy?"

Sebastian nodded, popping his cranberry-red shell.

"Precisely. A school day. Correct me if I am mistaken, _Alana_, but would that not make tonight, tonight being Sunday night, a school night?"

"….yes?"

"Lucky guess." Sebastian whispered in Triton's ear.

Ignoring the crustacean, Triton strode powerfully across the room but his interrogation remained calm.

"Remind me, _Aquata_, what time is curfew?"

"For a school night, Daddy?"

"Yes."

Awkwardly, Aquata slid turquoise stilettos under her dresser as Triton approached. "Nine. Nine o'clock Daddy."

Sebastian clicked his tongue.

"Attina…"

Triton's eldest straightened in her covers, clutching a bathrobe to her chest. "Father?"

"Tell me the time."

Fighting a blush, Attina answered without consulting her nightstand. "Nine-thirty."

"Tirty-seven," corrected Sebastian.

"Nine thirty-seven," repeated Admiral Triton, the badges flashing on his sleek uniform as he turned to his youngest daughter, perched on her window sill like a bird about to take flight.

"_Ariel_…where should you and your sisters be, if it is thirty-seven minutes past curfew on a school night before a school day?"

Ariel paused, as if she were listening to the breeze tangled in her bright red hair. Then, raising her haunting, deep seablue gaze, Ariel smiled and answered. "We should be in bed, Daddy."

"Puh." Sebastian spouted, breaking Triton from his reverie. "Dat is correct, young lady! In bed and out of fanstastical danger you 'ave roused dis past—"

"—That will suffice, Petty Officer Sebastian."

"Yeah, _at ease_…"sniggered Andrina, scrunching her nose innocently as Sebastian rounded on Triton's shoulder in search for the perpetrator, "…chill out."

"I expect…" Triton raised his voice slightly over Sebastian's jumbled slurs, "…that each and every one of one you are in bed, safe and…_untainted_ when I return from my meeting tonight."

"Where is the meeting, Daddy?" Ariel asked, piping over her sisters' compliant chorus.

Triton's thin lips smiled under his white beard.

Ariel. Although the youngest, she was assuredly one of the smartest, second only to Attina. Charming to a fault, Ariel was the spitting image of her mother and just as beguiling.

Triton's chest stirred. Occasionally Ariel would catch him offguard: a subtle sideways glance, hair-toss, or intonation reminded Triton of his dear wife, more than a decade passed now.

But that also meant, Triton noted wryly, that the subtext hidden behind Ariel's wide, innocent eyes was a transparent read. Triton had learned from courting Ariel's dear mother that this look was pure trouble.

"Da meetin," Sebastian chimed authoritatively, "Is none of your business young lady! Da Admiral—"

"—can speak for himself, Sebastian."

"Of…of course Admiral." Sebastian saluted weakly, lower lip pouting as Triton addressed each daughter in turn.

"Petty Officer Sebastian is correct, albeit outspoken. My affairs are my affairs: your affairs, ladies, are to heed the rules of this house. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Father."

"And," Triton continued, pausing at the doorway, "It may be of relevance to all of you that I have provided the police with the specifics of your curfew. Captain Amelia and PI Basil have assured me that any further misdemeanors will be met with appropriate action in my absence."

Sebastian nodded triumphantly at the staggering silence. Each daughter looked like she had been soaked in ice water. His glee was short lived as Triton spoke in deathly calm.

"Do I make myself clear?"

The girl's gulped and nodded.

Triton's eyes sharpened. "Ladies…do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Father."

"Very well, then. I will return within midnight. Good night, my girls."

"Good night, Father."

"Sleep tight." Sebastian smirked, wiggling his claw out the door.

Triton's footsteps died slowly. As they faded, the seven girls slowly came back to life.

"_Any further misdemeanors_," Adella ranted, jumping up and down on her mattress, "_will be met with the appropriate action!_ My God, are we criminals? Seriously, he had to tell the police?!"

"Good ol' Basil…" Andrina grinned, tossing a stuffed animal at Adella, "…and Captain-I-Can-Kick-Box-Your-Ass-To-Kingdom-Come Amelia. They love us there."

"She's not even a cop," Alana whined, "she's a naval officer!"

"Yeah, but Amelia and Dad are BFF's," said Arista, smooching her lips, "and she'll do _anything_ for Daddy."

"Stop that, Arista! Don't be disgusting!" Attina rose, kicking aside the coverlet she had been using to hide scaly leggings and tangerine heels, "Thanks to all of you, Captain Amelia will now be watching the docks and bays like it's her job!"

"It is her job," Ariel smiled.

"I mean for us! She'll be on the lookout for us!" Angrily, Attina snatched the stuffed animal en-route for her head, "And Basil can already smell us a mile away! So: no bar tonight."

"Attina!"

"You heard Father. It's not worth it."

"Not even for your _boyfriend, _Attina?"

"Stop it, you know that's not—"

"Oh my God, she's going to _stand him up_!"

"Witch with a 'B.'"

"Adella I swear to God if you don't shut—Ariel? Ariel!"

One leg hanging outside the window and red hair twisting in the ocean air, Ariel looked up. "Yeah?" she smiled.

Rushing forward, Attina held out her hands. "Ariel! What do you think you're doing?"

Ariel's deep blue eyes glittered with excitement. "Going out. You coming?"

It took only three more minutes of whining and mocking before Attina finally shimmied down the mansion wall and sprinted across the wet sand (so the waves would hide their footprints) to the mansion next door, where their cousins Maris and Marina, Coral and Cordelia, and Limpet and Lana were waiting outside their window.

As the twin pairs of blondes, chestnuts, and gingers strut across the beach, the oceanic cousins embraced like movie stars.

"Girlies!"

"Cuzinnnnnns!"

"Bitches!"

"Babes!"

"Ready for a blow out?"

"Let's bust open this town!"

Ariel smiled.

The _Little_ _Mermaids_ were reunited for another night!

Ariel loved her sisters and her cousins, but she cherished the danger they threw at her. Wealthy naval brats, this glamorous group of thirteen had earned their _Little Mermaid_ title from much more than lineage.

True, the blood inside each of them was tainted blue, granting each girl the magical ability to turn into a real mermaid when she touched the water. But the mermaid guise didn't stop on land. Star swimmers in school and sirens downtown, the Little Mermaids were queens of Fantasia. And they knew it.

Thrill charged through Ariel as she linked arms with Lana, also the youngest and also a redhead.

"Come on!" she laughed, skipping Lana along. Her sisters rolled their eyes. Ariel still acted like it was Christmas. "Come on! To the Snuggly Duckling!"

"Aw, how cute."

"Innocent."

"Wet's go to the Snuggwy Duckwing!"

Ariel paused. Lana was giggling.

"But…" Confused, Ariel looked to Attina, "But we always go to the Snuggly Duckling. To sing. Did I miss something?"

Smuggly, Lana glanced at her sisters. Adella laughed, obviously in on the joke.

"Not anymore, Deary." Adjusting the bedazzled water-lily in her black hair, Cordelia pranced in front of the group.

"Tonight," she announced, "We're going…to _The Docks_!"

Ariel raised her eyebrows as Attina gasped.

"The _what_?"

"The _Docks_!"

"The...bad part?"

"We can't go there!"

"There are scum!"

"And pirates!"

"Exactly!" Swinging back her shimmering orange hair, Lana ran her hands down her torso, "Manly, masculine, dirty-minded pirates. Pirates coming home from a long, long, long lonely voyage."

"Oooooo!" Arista and Aquata smiled. Limpet and Maris hopped up and down.

"Unless," Lana smirked at Ariel, "Unless _someone_ wants to go play musical chairs with a bunch of fat men instead?"

Ariel felt like she'd been slapped. She and Lana had been best friends since infancy. What was going on with her all of a sudden?

Ariel opened her mouth, ready to retaliate but Andrina beat her to it.

"Well someone's wonder-bra is a little too tight."

"And I am going to the Duckling," Attina added, hiking up her hip, "I already told Thomas I'd meet him there and I am _not_ changing my plans to watch you all waste your money on cheap wine and drool over sweaty ruffians and scoundrels."

"Well…"Andrina blinked, impressed by Attina's definitiveness, "…cheap wine and sweaty men works for me."

"Me too!"

"Hotties!"

"Ariel?" Lana turned, still smirking, "are you _coming_?"

Ariel bit her lip. She loved to sing. She loved to feel whole and…what word had her father used earlier? Oh yes…_untainted_. Whole and untainted. Just like being a child and singing with her mother to the rhythm of the tide. When her mother was alive.

But that smirk on Lana's smug little face…

"Please, of course I'm coming!"

Trying not to look back at Attina, Ariel ran to catch the group. Calling over the deafening clicking of heels, Ariel said, "So where are we going anyway?"

"A bar, Bee-otch." Cordelia answered without turning her head. "Really badass."

"What's it called?"

Lana turned, a glint of evil in her beautiful eyes. "The Benbow."


	3. Chapter 3: How in the Heck?

**Chapter 3: How in the Heck? **

"HOW IN THE HECK—RAWWWW!"

"Shut up! You blasted bird!"

"That's parrot to you Pops!"

Captain James Hook, gentleman cutthroat and first class pirate, ducked as the tomato-red parrot dove, aiming for his face.

"Parrots or flying rats," growled the captain, swiping his hook at the colorful tail feathers, "I detest birds! And anything that flies!"

"Well that's precious," smiled the parrot, digging his claws into Hook's shoulder, "Hell should agree with you."

"For other reasons, as well," replied the pirate, hook glinting in the moonlight, "But it would seem Hell holds a separate circle for both of us, Iago. And our kind."

"Yeah, yeah," Iago sneered, although his tone had depressed slightly, "Ditch the hammer because you're breaking my heart."

"I'd treasure nothing more," muttered Hook, striding across the wooden pier, scabbard clicking against his black boots. A chilled, salty wind slid under Hook's collar. Grimly, the pirate clutched at his trench as he navigated the damp dock. "But it seems you must be tolerated, for the present."

"Tolerated-shmolerated!" yapped Iago, careful to dust Hook's ear in spit, "I make you look like a respectable pirate. Don't get more authentic than talking parrots, Pops."

Hook stopped. "You," he said quietly, "Call me Captain. Or not speak at all."

Iago grinned. His reflection in Hook's sea-blue eyes grinned evilly back. "Gonna be a quiet hull then, huh? Ok, whatever. So, how in the heck are we gonna find this whoever we need to 'sterminate for the big P-L-A-N anyway, _Captain_? RAWW!"

Iago croaked through the pirate's strong fingers. Muffled profanity grew louder as Hook bared his teeth at the disgruntled parrot.

"Shh! You blasted bird! Not here!"

Hook scanned the dock. His eyes locked on a hunched-back sailor innocently unraveling a hawser. Hook squinted. The unwinding line fell predictably but the old sailor's hands were trembling.

Iago noticed. White folds narrowed over his black eyes. Shaking away Hook's fingers, the parrot opened the corner of his beak, "You want I should stick 'im, Pops?"

Hook considered.

The old dog was rasping his way though a sea-chantey ancient as the faded tricorne pulled over his eyes. The words were indiscernible but Hook knew the tune: he also knew the sailor's voice. Somewhere, he had heard that gravely voice before. Who could it be?

"Not…yet." Hook answered, eying the sailor as they passed. "But…perhaps…after…"

"What? After what?" Iago demanded, flapping his wings. The parrot squawked, surprised as a tavern door flew open at the mouth of a dock, spilling orange light into the darkness. Shielding his eyes, Iago was vaguely cognizant of boisterous cries and drunken toasts as the pirate captain spoke.

"After our parlay."

A saunter in his step, Hook made directly for the bar entrance. "We have a very important meeting with a very prominent authority tonight. Stay sharp, my little parrot…this authority has a notorious taste for pirates…and their pets."

Extending his arm, the pirate latched his hook through the brass door handle.

"Welcome," Hook grinned at scarlet parrot on his shoulder, "To the Benbow."

The sliver of orange light disappeared, with it Hook and Iago.

And true to the captain's suspicions, the old sailor looked up from his line and stopped singing.


	4. Chapter 4: Bar Scene

**Chapter 4: Bar Scene**

"Sometimes!"

Jim glanced up. He closed his eyes just in time as a stack of dirty plates crashed into the sink.

Blinking away greasy suds, Jim groped for a dish rag as fellow waitress, Tiana, fumed behind him. Her chocolate-colored cheeks were hotter than an oven and she blew like an angry kettle.

"Sometimes!" Tiana repeated, strangling her apron, "Sometimes I wish I could just mix a bowl of Tabasco and yellow mustard and pour it over the head of every single customer that walks through that door! Ohhhhhh Jim, let me tell you, Boy!"

Viciously, Tiana slapped down hamburger patties, "Let me tell you boy some people don't know the definition of good food! My Daddy is probably turning over in his grave! I slave away making a _grilled_ lime-twist-chipolte burger masterpiece and the fool says 'come back when it's got some grease in it, Legs.' _Legs_? Puh—lease! This is a sports bar, not a stripper lounge!"

"Not far off." Jim said wryly.

"In your dreams," Tiana snapped, wrenching open the cooler and seizing a beer and rum. Slamming the door shut, she paused, listened, kicked the cooler, and nodded when it hummed back to life.

"Damn cooler's broke again."

"Ok, I'm on it."

"Oh no you're not!"

Jim swerved, juggling the two icy bottles Tiana thrust at him.

"There is no way I am going back out there!" Unknotting her apron, Tiana glared at the swinging doors, "I am paid to cook and clean: _Not_ to bartender; _not_ to entertain; and _not_ to be pawed and leered at! So, when I say that I am not going back out there, I mean it! Do you understand me?"

Jim knelt for the apron. "I didn't argue."

"Well you're going to wish you had, let me tell you!" Tiana mumbled, dumping a bag of onion rings into the deep fryer. She grimaced as the oil sizzled. "After one look at the winners out there tonight."

Apathetically, Jim clinked together the glass bottles. "Who are these for?"

"Rum's for the creep by the door. He wants it neat; straight up and no rocks."

"Fine. The beer?"

Tiana paused. Her large caramel colored eyes lingered on the popping onion rings.

"Your best friend," she finally answered, shaking the wire basket. "So go serve him, if you want."

Jim starred at Tiana's back, her scorn still sharp in the air.

"Whatever," he muttered, gripping the bottles and turning darkly out the door.

A colorful raucous opened as the door swung close. The Benbow crawled with every horrible personality imaginable, but mostly seadogs mixed with thieves, outlaws, and crackpots. The usual crowd.

In the midst, Jim saw his mother. Empty pitchers and peanut bowls balanced over her head, Sarah Hawkins waded through the tables. Jim's eyes narrowed as she was received with crudities. He rectified the matter by splitting into the harasser's mug.

"Jim, I told you no waiting tonight! You have to go back to school tomorrow." Heavily, Sarah lowered the pitchers. "Where's Tia?"

Jim shrugged. "In the back. Cooking. Cleaning. She's got school too."

"Well, I'm not her mother." Fluidly, Sarah wiped the pitchers sparkling clean and refilled them to the brim with golden liquid. "No more tonight, Jim. Go upstairs."

"In a minute."

"James Pleiades Hawkins…"

Jim held up the bottles. "These orders are waiting."

Sarah opened her mouth. Her hands almost reached her hips before Jim said, "Mom…the beer's for George."

A chorus of cheers and whistles exploded by the sports screen as Sarah's face softened. Sighing deeply, she looped the pitcher handles between her fingers. "Those poor children. All right, one more order."

Jim turned but Sarah caught him with stern eyes, "But just one, Jim. Then up to bed."

Jim nodded. Unsatisfied, Sarah shook her head. Warily, she watched her son maze through the crowded bar before returning into the fray.

Waist-deep in drunks, Jim scanned the room. The straight-up rum was reclined by the door, his long, dramatic face flashing through a line of divas that had just entered. A scruffy red bird with a huge beak was yapping on his shoulder.

"About time, Scruffy!" barked the parrot as Jim set down the bottle. "Hey! Get back here! I ordered a mojito!"

"No shirt, no serve." Jim answered, distracted as he made for the owner of the second drink. Unaware that the pirate had smiled appreciatively over his rum, Jim slowly approached a middle aged man slumped over a back corner table.

"Hey. Hey…Mr. D? Mr. D?"

Drool oozed from the man's mouth as Jim prodded his shoulder. Frowning, Jim shook harder.

"Mr. Darling! Wake up."

"Ohhh…get off me…will ya…"

Mr. Darling's eyes opened unsteadily, reeling like spools of red thread. Swaying, the man grasped the edge of the table, blinking hard.

"Where am I what still here?"

Somberly, Jim nodded. "Yeah. At the Benbow."

"Uh…huh…Benbow…grashious…"

"Yeah." Shifting the bottle behind his hip, Jim knelt until he was eye level. Disgusted, Jim waited as Mr. Darling belched through his last four beers. Behind him, a high pitched voice called, "Waiter! Oh waiter!"

"Hold it." Jim muttered, reaching for Mr. Darling's hand. "Mr. D. It's me. Jim."

"…uh…huh…"

"Waiter! Helllllo?"

Jim squeezed the man's fingers. Staring intently into the bloodshot eyes, Jim spoke clearly, "Yes. Jim. Wendy's friend. Wendy. Your daughter."

Mr. Darling frowned, nose reddening.

"Um, waiter! We are waiting!"

Jim jostled Mr. Darling's wrist. "Mr. D. Go home. Mr. D? Can you hear me?"

The man flinched "Uh-huh…"

"Waiter!"

Mr. Darling's tongue slopped over his lips. Then without warning, his free hand darted from under the table and grabbed Jim's ear.

"Hey!"

Jim clenched the neck of the beer bottle as Mr. Darling gasped in his face, "Beer. Beer now Boy!"

Wincing against the pull of his earring, Jim rose, easing from Mr. Darling's grip. Unable to ignore the calling behind him any longer, Jim slammed the beer bottle onto the table.

"Open it yourself."

Jim turned, trying not to watch as Mr. Darling gnawed the beer cap. Unexpectedly, he came face to face with a dozen of the most glamorous girls he'd ever seen.

Sparkling from head to toe, Jim could tell instantly that these girls were related: each identical heart shaped face was set with a young forehead that tapered into a small, delicate chin. The girls had large, deliriously beautiful eyes, and pert little lips each smiling radiantly at him.

"Took you long enough, we only called a billion times."

Jim's eyebrow's lowered. _Brats._ He took a second look. _Wealthy brats. What were they doing in the Benbow?_

"Are you going to take our order or what, Deary?"

Glowering at the redhead who had spoken Jim fished out his pad and pencil.

"Ok, rude…" A brunette rolled her eyes to Jim's silence. Crossing her legs imperially, the girl leaned over the back of her chair, "Get us twelve sex on the beach cocktails."

The girls giggled. Jim felt like throwing up.

Then, the outspoken redhead flicked out a golden credit card. Eyes gleaming, she twirled a piece of hair between glossed lips, "And I'll take a sexy brown-haired, blue-eyed waiter on the beach…"

Uncontrollable giggles.

A number of thoughts crossed Jim's mind as he stared at the redhead. She stared back, toying playfully with the golden sequence net braided in her fiery hair and trying to drown Jim in huge, reflective eyes.

"We don't serve underage," Jim finally said, turning away, "And we don't accept fake IDs. Twelve waters."

The incredulous pause lasted half a second before the Little Mermaids giggled and hissed.

"Oh my God!" Cordelia rolled her eyes a second time, "Rude! What's up his ass?"

"Me by the end of tonight." said Lana.

Cordelia scowled as her sisters and cousins squealed. "Lana, he is so not your type."

"Why not?"

"Bad boy," she winked at Adella, "Obviously my type."

"Bee-otch!"

Alana and Coral shook their heads. Aquata rubbed table grease from her nails, "I think all bets are off on Mr. Right. He's not even that good looking."

"Maybe if you're a prude," said Maris.

"Speaking of which," Lana flicked her hair, "where's Ariel?"

Andrina raised an eyebrow at Lana. "By the television. Watching some track meet."

"She can't even be cool at a sports bar," mumbled Marina as the girls scanned the room, "She could at least be a real jock."

"Hey," Andina frowned. Down the room, Ariel was pointing to the screen and chatting with a large man who looked happy as a clam. "Lay off. She likes to watch that stuff."

"Well, as long as she stays on the swim team," Coral said, "I don't care if she watches chess."

Arista giggled. "No,no that would be Attina and…Daddy!"

"Nice one, Girl."

"No!" Squeaking like a mouse, Arista pointed to the doorway, "Daddy just walked in!"

Simultaneously, the girls turned.

And, there seating himself across an elegant pirate and red parrot was Admiral Triton.


	5. Chapter 5: First Sight

**Chapter 5: First Sight**

"What are we going to do?!"

"Arista! Marina! Shhhhhh!"

"But what are we going to do?!"

"Oh my God!" Stuffing her purse under her arm, Andrina took charge. She was team captain of every swimming event for good reason. Now was her time to shine. "Everyone to the bathroom! Now!"

"Andrina!" Alana protested as she was yanked from her chair, "What about Ariel?"

"No time!" hissed Andrina. Stealing a glance over her shoulder, she ducked as Triton and Sebastian frowned at something the pirate said. "We're ditching. There has to be a window in the bathroom. Move it ladies!"

"But—"

"Just text her Alana!"

"Fine, fine." Crouching across the bar, Alana took out her phone. "I hope this works," she whispered, thumbs flying as she disappeared into the ladies room.

Ariel's phone vibrated. But she did not receive the message. Good naturedly wondering where everyone was, Ariel returned from the television screens with a huge smile on her face as she reached for her phone. Suddenly, a horrifyingly familiar voice sang across the room:

"Ha! Da day we agree to dat is the day fish fly, Mister!"

Ariel froze. _Sebastian?_

She looked up. Directly across the room sitting at a table of four was Sebastian. And Triton. Both were here, at this bar! And both looked cross. Very cross.

Slapping a hand over her mouth, Ariel dropped. Stooped under the table, she waited until her heart stopped pounding. Then, she began to laugh.

"This is so stupid!" Lifting slightly on her haunches, she reached for her phone, "I'll just call…oh no…"

The beer stained wood above her head buzzed as her phone vibrated. She'd left it on the table.

"Great." Ariel slumped cross legged, watching feet walk by. "I guess it can't get much worse."

Surprised Ariel sat up, bumping her head. Two booted feet were bee-lining toward her. Holding her breath, Ariel waited, painfully listening to her phone vibrate as the boots paused at the table.

Then, she saw a hand. The hand slipped under the table, holding her phone.

Ariel peered. Uncertainly, she took the phone. It was from Alana.

**_DADS HERE! BATHROOM! NOW! _**

A second text buzzed in. Also from Alana: **_see u a home lol_**

Ariel rolled her eyes. "Thanks a lot…"she sighed, looking about uselessly for an escape route. Her eyes settled on the two boots, still poised at the edge of the table. For a moment, Ariel considered. Then, typing quickly into her phone, she tentatively offered it to the mystery stranger.

**_Hi_** it read **_thnx for my phone :)_**

Jim almost smiled when he read the message. Setting down the platter of waters, he took the phone and replied: **_np yr drinks r here_**

Ariel tapped her knee, thinking of a graceful way out of her mess: **oh thnx I think they left...I should 2...whats the bill?**

Jim glanced at the glasses. He hadn't even put ice in them: **no charge (waters)**

Ariel grinned broadly, imagining Lana's smug little smirk: **carded?! ha ha lol!**

That made Jim smile. Shaking his head, Jim texted back a message: **so u comfortable down there or what?**

Ariel lifted her head, thanking her lucky stars that this wonderful person had made the segue: **act I kinda need to sneak out. suggestions?**

Ariel waited. The response made her laugh: **walk?**

She texted back: **seriously:P**

Jim scanned the room. Unless this girl—he assumed it was one of the glamour girls—was some sort of anorexic dwarf, he didn't see a chance of leaving without her being noticed. Rich, pretty girls were like blood in the water; she would surely attract attention. Hell, she couldn't even stay hidden under the table!

Fingering the phone thoughtfully, Jim eyed the edge of the table. Then, slowly he tilted his head.

_BANG!_

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" screamed the parrot, tearing across the bar, a crab dangling from his neck, "MAYYYYYYYYY-DAYYYYYYYYYYY!"

_BANG!_

The lights blew out as red feathers burst like flames. The parrot continued to screech over Jamaican curses as gun shots streaked across the bar. Falling to his knees, Jim hit his forehead against the sharp table edge. Head pounding, Jim suddenly felt a small hand grab his shoulder.

Instinctively, Jim pressed the phone buttons and raised the thin light.

He almost dropped the phone. His breath caught in his throat.

Two of the deepest sea-blue eyes lit up from the darkness.

Jim could only stare.

Two men shouted. The eyes moved. The phone blinked out.

Jim pressed the buttons again. The eyes had vanished. And the Benbow was on fire.

"Everyone out, out, out!"

"Mom!" Jim shouted. A stampede raced by, bulldozing Jim across the bar and over the threshold. Stumbling across the slick dock, Jim crashed onto his back. Orange smoke spread across the sky and explosions punched holes in the air. Jim raised his head. Small flames curled out of the doorway, reaching for the roof.

"No!" Jim scrambled to his feet. Behind him, two claws wrenched him back down. Shouting in alarm, Jim spun on all fours but the claws pulled him closer to a gruesome face wrinkled and pointed like a snake.

"There's no time lad!" the snake face croaked, hanging off Jim's shirt, "He's seen old Billy Bones! He knows! He's a-comin!"

"What?" Jim tried to pull away. Sirens droned and men screamed. "What the—look you gotta get off me! My house is on fire! My mom is in—"

"Like the fires of Hell!" rasped Billy Bones eyes rolling in their sockets, "He's cartin' them shadowy devils across the sea! They'll be lookin' for old Billy! They'll be lookin' for this! He's a coming! He's a coming!"

"What?" Jim shook under the sailor's weight, "What are you—who's coming?"

Jim buckled as the heavy claw grasped the nape of his neck. Just as something round and cold was tucked under his arm the old sailor choked, making a horrible guttural sound.

A dark figure passed into the darkness as Billy Bones pressed close to Jim's ear.

"The man with the metal hand," the old pirate wheezed, clenching Jim's neck, "Beware of the man with the metal hand."

Billy Bones fell hard as a stone.

Jim stared at the dead man. Then, he stared at the metallic orb that the pirate had forced into his hands. So stunned was he, Jim failed to see a girl with blood-red hair sprint over the docks and across the rocky beach.

Heart pounding, Ariel did not stop until she reached a crossroad. Pausing at a lamppost only to catch her breath, she started up again, failing to notice three pairs of eyes watching her from a large stone building labeled **ORPHANAGE: HOME FOR LOST BOYS AND GIRLS.**


	6. Chapter 6: The Lost Boys and Lost Girls

**Chapter 6: The Lost Boys and Lost Girls**

Lilo considered.

Then, taking a handful of green hoodie she yanked hard. "BOO!"

"Jesus!"

Sweetly, Lilo smiled as the three older boys jumped. Spinning off the window sill and hiding a set of toy binoculars, Aladdin, Flynn, and Peter searched the room wildly. When they saw it was Lilo, rocking smugly on her heels, they scowled.

"Lilo!" Flynn clutched his chest, "Geeze girl. My aorta just exploded."

Lilo giggled as the boys returned to the window. "Watcha doin?"

Aladdin spoke over his shoulder, "Nothing. Go to bed. Hey!"

"I know what you're doing." announced Lilo, squirming between Aladdin and Peter. Happily, she pressed her nose against the glass. "And my sister told me it's bad!"

"Did she?"

"Yep! Real bad! She said you're peeping to—"

"—Lilo." Pressing a landline to her chest, Nani signaled to her little sister. "Lilo, leave those creeps alone."

"Yeah, Lilo." Peter said, "Leave us creeps alone."

Lilo pretended not to hear. The spitting image of her sister, Lilo squinted through her refection in the black window. Following the binoculars, she strained to see what the boys were looking at.

Three stories down, five people were stepping out of a car. Cocking her head, Lilo watched as her friends Mowgli and Tarzan said their goodbyes to….

Lilo's stomach rumbled. _A family._ A daddy with a big moustache and big tummy; a mommy with pretty hair and pretty eyes; and even a little brother with a little face and a little, goofy grin. Perfect. They were perfect.

Lilo scowled. She hated Mowgli for it! Well, she'd show him a thing or two later!

"How much you think they're worth?" Flynn mused as Tarzan shook hands with the prospective parents and gestured Mowgli to do the same.

Aladdin shrugged as Peter adjusted the plastic binocular dials. "Dude, who cares they've got a Porsche. And check it: that guy's definitely sporting the gold ring-blinage. He must be a politician or anesthesiologist or something."

"And a little brother," Peter leaned forward, "Bonus. Go Mowgli."

Half listening to her phone conversation, Nani crossed the room. She gazed out the window. Then, her sharp eyes fell softly on Lilo.

Sighing, Nani wound the phone cord around her finger. "David," she said wearily, "I'll see you tomorrow, ok? What? Ok…Lilo? Lilo, David wants to say goodnight."

Perking up, Lilo grabbed the phone. "Hi, David! Yes…no…" Lilo burst out laughing, "No!" she giggled, bouncing up and down. "No! What?….um…one sec…"

Lilo's eyes swept quickly over Nani, "…pajamas, why? I don't know, an Elvis shirt and yellow shorts with a hole in the bu—"

"—say goodnight!" Nani snapped as Peter, Aladdin, and Flynn turned simultaneously.

Lilo grinned as Mowgli and Tarzan entered the room. "Fine…David, I gotta go….No, I gotta go beat someone up now. Bye."

Slapping the phone in Nani's hand, Lilo hopped off the window sill and charged at Mowgli.

"Lilo!"

"Easy." Lilo swung, just missing Mowgli's head as Tarzan lift her onto his hip. He caught Mowgli by the forehead as the boy rushed forward at Lilo. "Calm down. Both of you."

"She tried to hit me!" Mowgli said, wrestling Tarzan's arm. Other children looked up, interested in the commotion. "I didn't do anything!"

"Oh yeah!" Lilo struggled as Nani seized her, "Oh yeah, well you look like a stupid head!"

Mowgli ripped off his faded grey tie. "I do not!"

"Do to!" Lilo shouted, thinking of the big man in the fancy car. He had also worn a tie. "And mommies and daddies don't adopt stupid heads!"

It took all of Tarzan's agility to catch Mowgli and hold him back. Growling like a panther, Mowgli clawed at Lilo's face. "Take that back!"

"You take it back!"

"Stupid head!"

"Baby!"

"Mowgli!"

"Lilo!"

"What are you little brats doing up!? Get into bed!"

The orphans scattered. Boys and girls fled to opposite sides of the room in the wake of Sir Ector and Lady Tremaine, the orphanage wardens.

"To bed!" bellowed Sir Ector, smacking Tootles and Cubby as they scampered by, "Get into bed! What do you think you're doing up after hours?"

"Sir Ector. It is not their fault." Tarzan quickly interceded Sir Ector and Lady Tremaine. "I asked them to stay up. Mowgli had dinner with interested parents. I went with him and thought—"

"Excuses."

Tarzan stopped interrupted by Lady Tremaine's harsh tone. The tall lady glared over her hooked nose. "Lights go out at eight, regardless. Regardless!" She barked, sending orphans diving under the covers.

"And what's this about interested parents?" Sir Ector huffed, thrusting out his enormous stomach, "Why wasn't I notified, _Boy_?"

Tarzan's eyes flashed. With only a year left of school, Tarzan was the oldest orphan. Over six feet of pure muscle hardened by seventeen years of broken dreams, Tarzan clearly resented Sir Ector's subordination. But he was still a minor, legally dependant on Sir Ector and the orphanage. With any luck, his internship would solidify into a position on the zoo veterinary staff and in a year, he would be free. But for now…

Tarzan closed his savage blue eyes. "You were notified," he said calmly, "But I saved you the trip."

Sir Ector grunted. "Get there on the company car did you?"

Tarzan shook his head. "The family drove us back."

"They'll be wanting reimbursement, then." Sir Ector sniffed through his red moustache, "Gas doesn't pay for itself, Boy."

Peter took the opportunity to blow a raspberry.

Sir Ector turned, fist raised like a club. Peter dodged, but Sir Ector was distracted by a commotion in the doorway.

"Wart! Cinderella! Confound it all!"

Fumbling in the doorway, Wart and Cinderella knelt in a puddle of soapy water. Two buckets rolled innocently to the side, stopping at Lady Tremaine's sharp heels.

"We're sorry!" Cinderella beseeched Sir Ector. Her bright eyes stood out against the grime on her cheeks. Beside her Wart silently pressed a dirty towel into the water. "It was an accident. We're cleaning it."

"What happened?" Lady Tremaine's voice dropped an octave as she stared at Cinderella. The bucket was poised beneath her sharp boot.

"I…" Cinderella swallowed hard, water seeping into her skirt. "…I…it was…"

"I tripped."

Cinderella looked quickly at Wart. She shook her head as Lady Tramaine's eyes narrowed. Sir Ector stepped forward, eyebrows angled, "What's this Wart?"

"I…tripped." Wart repeated, pointing to the bucket, "Up the stairs. I didn't mean—"

"Lady Tremaine!" Cinderella flinched with the rest of the orphans as Wart buckled, his ear bright red. Horrified, Cinderella rounded on Sir Ector, "Sir Ector, it wasn't his fault! Please, don't let her hurt—"

"In bed!" bellowed Sir Ector, seizing Cinderella and Wart. "I'm going to count to ten and if you all are not in bed I swear by the powers hang it all-!"

"He's bluffing," Peter muttered darkly as Flynn bounded into the next bed, "he can't count to ten."

"Oh yeah," Aladdin turned over his pillow, "neither can you."

"BED! BED! BED! BED!"

Storming as violently has his fat bottom allowed, Sir Ector followed Lady Tremaine across the narrow aisle. "GOOD NIGHT!" he roared, slamming the door.

Utter silence ensured, save for the turning of a lock.

Peter was the first to sigh.

Nani was the first to whisper, "Cindy…honey you ok?"

A general dialogue followed, uninterrupted and scattered as a breeze. The little ones complained that they were hungry. The middle ones still wished allowed. The older ones tried not to crush their dreams.

Peter gazed out the window, tracing stars with his back eyes before lifting his head. A dark, crumpled outline in the farthest corner told him Wart was pretending to be asleep. Peter championed himself as hero of the boys, but left Wart alone. He glanced at Cinderella, cradled in Nani's arms. Sympathy came easily accepted for an unloved step-daughter: but it was another source of pride to be the whipping boy.

"Hot one tonight." Flynn mused, hands behind his head.

Aladdin grunted. "Dude…I thought Sir Ector was going to have a heart attack or something. Guess we're not that lucky."

"I didn't mean that, Stupid." Propping on his elbows, Flynn nodded at the window, "I mean, the _scenery_!"

Peter's ears pricked as Aladdin grinned. His perfect, white teeth gleamed even in the dark. "Oh yeah…the scenery!" Aladdin paused, "You mean the girls, right?"

Flynn reached for Peter's pillow and threw it at Aladdin. "Bingo. Hot, hot, hot! Did you see all of them? Twelve in a row! It was like a friggin circus train! "

Aladdin caught the pillow easily and tossed it back to Peter. "Heels too. You know I like it when they run in heels. Ahhhhh…"

Aladdin sighed. He looked refreshed as if he'd downed a carton of iced lemonade, "…oh yes…what more could a malnourished, psychologically compromised orphan with no discernable future ask for? See any you like Pete?"

Peter crossed his legs. "They were ok. Sub-par."

"Sub-par?"

"You kiddin'? Pete..." Flynn knocked on Peter's forehead, "…Pete, my friend. My friend. Listen: Fast food is sub-par. Urinating girl-style is sub-par. 50th anniversary rock concerts, those are sub-par. But those girls…" Flynn kissed his fingers, "…oh, those girls. They were _par_."

Peter grinned out the window. "Maybe so. For you…" he consented, suddenly inspired by the twinkling night sky, "…but I shoot for the stars."

Aladdin gagged, "Think I'm going to puke."

Flynn rolled his eyes, "Shoot for the stars! You? Oh please, you shoot for anything as long as the bra unfastens in the back!"

"And you don't?"

"Nope!" Flynn pounded his chest, "I can do back or front clasps!"

"_That_ was an interesting gym class," Aladdin mused dreamily, "Who knew front clasps were the brand of choice for the girls in our graduating class. Ha! I thought that little babe was going to kill you Pete. What was she anyway? Front or back?"

Peter shrugged, smiling at the memory. "Dunno," he said, massaging his cheek, "She was wearing a hoodie. Too much fabric to feel through. And she slapped me."

"You sound proud."

Peter considered. He smile curled, remembering the look in the girl's big, blue eyes right before she decked him with her little hand, "Yeah…I kinda am."

"Well don't be." Aladdin nuzzled against his pillow, hair spread around his head like a thick black mane, "Jasmine told me she's kinda a prude. Don't waste your time."

"SCHOOL TOMORROW BRATS! NO MORE TALKING UP THERE!"

Peter drew the covers over the enormous grin on his face. "Wouldn't dream of it," he smiled at the sheet, "I don't even know the girl's name."


	7. Chapter 7: Second Star to the Wrong

**Chapter 7: Second Star to the Wrong**

The headmaster of _Fantasia School for the Magically_ _Skewed_ waited on his balcony, looking up. Surrounded by a forest of stone towers, gargoyles, and buttresses he could only see a sliver of the night sky.

But it was the only sliver he needed to see.

One little star sat in that particular sliver of night sky. As the headmaster watched, without the aid of his telescope, the little star shivered. The headmaster's heart cried for the little star as it trembled, sprinkling tears of stardust into the ocean.

Then it happened.

The little star broke. It shattered, splitting in half. Shards of white light skittered together like grains of salt, slowly collecting on the midnight canvas.

The headmaster lowered his head. As he waited, he was joined by a small, silent crowed. It was difficult to discern the newcomers in the dark. But a glimpse was all that was necessary to recognize old companions. To the left were two lanky legs attached to buck teeth, and a feathery scowl attached to incoherent complaints. To the right were two black velvet ears and a soft smile, attached to two sympathetic eyes. At her side was his panting best friend, attached to a wagging tail. Directly behind emerged a magical trio, red, green, and blue, and they were followed by a magical duo, both white haired and wearing starry blue robes that perfectly matched the wings of the tall lady behind them. At the outskirts two felines prowled the night sky, one the color of gold and the other ebony hued. The grand animals were trailed by two more, one with a crooked coconut staff and the other with crooked antler crown. Seven stumpy figures filed in, one by one, just as a stream of whispering willow leaves breathed life into three gargoyles and a cricket hopped onto the headmaster's shoulder. A witch with a boa snaked through the crowed, carefully stepping over the toes her blind eyes could not see. Finally, and with much reluctance, a dragon came, nervously reciting poetry.

All stared at the night sky.

And when the headmaster returned his gaze to the sky, the deed had been done.

To the right of the little star, now half as little, was a second star.

"The second star to the right."

The headmaster closed his eyes. "The second star to the wrong."

Breaths were breathed sharply. A cloud of whispers hovered over the headmaster.

"Early, I dare say. The splitting was not scheduled for another 500 years."

"Troubles, oh yes, we've got them –what."

"Look at the star. It is watching us."

"Bright as a jewel. Bright as a diamond."

"Garsh."

"Great evil…"

"But also great good. Remember…the students."

Someone blew like a bazooka. But reference of the students oriented the group once more to a state of calm.

"The students…" purred a deep voice, "…will you tell them tomorrow, Headmaster? Tomorrow…will they…_choose_?"

"Yes and no." The Headmaster spoke swiftly, providing little pause for doubt. Cogs clicked between his ears as a thousand calculations added exponentially in his head.

"Yes and no?" said a sweet voice. The headmaster quivered, grateful that the night hid his blush. He turned. Two concerned eyes stared at him through thick lashes. "Headmaster...what does that mean?"

"Easy," another voice cackled gently, "We tell them _what they neeeeeeeed_."

The headmaster nodded. He placed gloved hands on the railing. The gargoyles tilted respectfully as the headmaster spoke, almost to himself. "Yes. Only what they need to know…for now."

He gazed at the twin stars, unable to consider them blessings or omens. "For the present, let them continue to be happy. Let them continue to be…just to be…"

The stars glowed, long after the crowd dispersed and the headmaster stood alone to watch the shadows slowly gathering behind the white light.


	8. Chapter 8: Monday Mornings Suck

**Chapter 8: Monday Mornings Suck**

"Jim? _Jim?_ Goodness! What on earth –"

Jim strode past Wendy and into the kitchen. Grimly, he slumped onto the nearest chair.

"Bad night." He said dryly.

The kettle started to scream. Jim massaged his temples. His jacket sleeves still smelled thickly of smoke. "Really bad night. God. Monday mornings suck."

"What ever happened?" Wendy asked, sliding aside the kettle and reaching for the coffee grounds. The dry, rich aroma revitalized Jim as she popped open the lid.

"Fire." Jim answered, faced masked, "There was a fire."

"Jim! In the Benbow?"

"Yeah."

"Last night?"

"Uh-huh."

"Jim, how—how horrid! How—but your mother! Is she all right?" Wendy's hand crossed over his shoulders as she pulled up beside him. Her eyes were wide with worry. Jim folded his hands, waiting for the inevitable waterfall of words.

"Where is she now? Oh tell me she's all right! The Benbow – is it, well I mean…is it…_burnt_? How did it happen? Why didn't you come here last night? Where did you sleep? Were you hurt? _Are you all right_? My goodness but your exhausted, of course you are!"

"Wen –"

"You're in no condition for school!" Wendy announced. She stood up briskly, taking Jim by the hand. "I think you should go to bed. You can stay here. Father will sleep all day, he won't take notice—"

"Wen—"

"Come on, upstairs. I'll bring back your homework—"

"Wen." Pulling away his hand, Jim backed toward the doorway. In two minutes, Wendy had documented every thought and every emotion festering inside him. It was kathartic in a way, saving Jim the trouble of processing the information himself, but at this moment there wasn't enough space in his head for sympathetic, practical chatter. He needed…well…right now he needed coffee.

"Mom is ok. Friend of the family took us in last night." Jim leaned on the counter. Wendy frowned. Concern still laced her every feature, but she nodded invitingly at the coffee. Turning, Jim reached for a chipped mug, snatching a teabag for Wendy on the way down.

"We don't know what happened." Jim sat. Closing his eyes, he let the coffee steam roll across his throbbing forehead. "It was late….dark…who the Hell knows…"

Wendy steeped her tea, agitatedly fingering the string. "The…the Benbow?"

Jim stared into his coffee. "Gone."

Wendy exhaled quietly. "Gone?"

"Gone." His reflection in the black coffee was dark and glaring. Jim looked away.

Wendy opened her mouth. She closed it again, before venturing a small, "Jim…I'm…I'm so sorry. Truly sorry. I—"

Wendy paused. A storm of wet coughs erupted in the living room. It sounded like someone was choking. An instant later, two pairs of footsteps stampeded down the stairs.

"Oh dear…"Wendy murmured. Deftly, she stood and poured a second mug of coffee.

"The boys are coming down," she said, stooping under the sink and producing a bottle of Tabasco. Jim grimaced, remembering Tiana's monologue from last night. He watched as Wendy stirred hot sauce into the cup. Hurriedly, she headed for the living room.

"I'll be right back," Wendy said, offering a weak smile, "Don't worry. We'll talk later. Everything is going to work out. But, would you get Michael his breakfast?"

Jim nodded, tilting to see over Wendy's shoulder. Noticing, Wendy ducked into the room, but not before Jim caught site of Mr. Darling hanging over his armchair and hacking up enough alcohol for a cocktail party. Jim sighed. Well…at least he made it back. At least.

Two little arms suddenly wrapped around Jim's knees.

"Jim!"

"Hey, Chief." Smiling, Jim accepted the high-five Wendy's youngest brother threw at him.

Michael Darling: he was one of those kids that you always hear about but never find. Like Wendy, his caramel-colored hair and sky blue eyes afforded him a sort of cherubim charm that was amplified by unconditional adoration. The kid was an angel. Michael worshiped Jim and greeted him in kind.

"I brought you this for your first day of school!" the little boy announced. Wiggling like a puppy, Michael presented a box of crayons.

"There are eight colors," Michael informed him. Jim couldn't help but grin. Michael was only five years old, but his tonation was identical to Wendy's. "And I can name them all."

"Yeah?" Jim opened the thin box. He fished out the first crayon and held it up to Michael.

"Black."

"Pretty good…this one?"

"Blue."

"One more?"

"Green!"

"Too good for me, Chief. Now…" Jim pushed back from the table, "How about some break—"

Jim stopped. Standing at the counter, a box of cereal in his hands, was John Darling. The boy surveyed Jim over wide, circular glasses. Jim shifted. He felt like an insect under a magnifying glass. John was a little too scrutinizing for his taste – just like Mr. Darling (when he was sober).

The tension must have strained John's comfort as well. With thin politeness the boy seated himself. "Morning."

Jim waited for John to set his bowl at the table before responding. "Hey."

John's eyes were balanced carefully on the rim of his bowl. "Fine day," he said crisply, giving the cereal box a shake.

Jim looked away. "…sure."

It was suffocating. Jim wished Wendy would hurry up with her father. He and John had never meshed and for indefinite reasons. Their interactions had always been ridged but without conflict. Jim never tried to be overly friendly, John didn't seem to mind, and the two co-existed briefly and effectively through avoidance.

Still, tension existed. Leaning against the wall, Jim watched the two brothers. John emptied the cereal box into Michael's bowl as the two discussed plans to make swords out of toilet paper rolls.

Shamelessly, Jim lingered on the scene. It wasn't that he disliked John. Truthfully, the kid was pretty cool – very bright for his age, a quick thinker, and quicker extrapolator. But for whatever reason, Jim made him uncomfortable. And Jim wasn't about to push that boundary.

A guttural noise from the living room made the boys jump. Inadvertently Jim touched his throat. It sounded painful.

"What was that?" Michael piped as John twisted in his chair. John looked mildly concerned. Michael turned to Jim, "Was that Daddy?"

Jim opened his mouth without an answer just as Wendy slipped through the doorway.

"What was that?" John asked, staring accusingly at Wendy.

Fluidly, Wendy smiled. "That was Father," she replied in a rehearsed sort of way, "He's perfectly fine and – oh Michael don't go in there! We don't want to wake him. Father had a terribly late night at _McDuck Bank_. Apparently Mr. McDuck kept the financial advisors after hours to update client bases and review tax revenues. Poor Father didn't go to bed until very…"

Wendy spoke casually as her brothers lost interest and accepted the detailed explanation. Jim had to admit that it was a good strategy. Still, he noticed John turning his spoon pensively over his soggy cereal.

Abruptly, John looked up. He spoke directly at Jim. "You smell."

"John!" Wendy rushed to Jim's side, frowning at John. "That is a terrible—"

"Well he does!" John said defensively, wrinkling his nose, "He smells like..like…"

"Burned flesh?"

John snapped his mouth shut, surprised by Jim's comment. Michael's eyes were wide as saucers. Wendy looked faintly disgusted as well, but remained silent as Jim pushed off the wall. "Don't worry it's just smoke."

"John," Wendy said softly, "the Benbow caught fire last night."

John's stiffened. "The what?"

"The Benbow."

"My house."

"You mean that _saloon_?" John spat, fingers clenched around the back of his chair.

Jim frowned slightly as John glared at him. "Sports bar…" he corrected mutely, "And yeah. It's gone."

Michael stood in his chair as Wendy joined John. John's face contorted as she whispered in his ear. "Why should I?" he hissed, pulling away, "I didn't do anything!"

"Where were the firemen?" Michael asked, "Didn't the dragons come to eat up the fire? We learned about them in school."

Jim snuffed wryly as John stalked by. Wendy looked exasperated. "Firemen don't live in my part of town, Chief."

Michael sat. "So you don't have a house?"

"..nope."

"Does that mean you can't go to school?"

Before Jim could confirm, the doorbell range.

It rang three times.

"Strange…" Wendy said, as the Darling children looked at each other. Their closest neighbor, Ms. De Vil, was not the most affable of types and had made clear that she detested children. Bemused, Wendy went to the door. "Who could that be? Michael, John get your backpacks ready so we can leave after I see who's…Professor Doppler?"

Jim turned away from the canine astrologer beaming in the doorway "…oh son of a mother—"

"Good morning, Ms. Darling!" Dr. Doppler smiled brightly, balancing on the small doorstep. He seemed cheerfully apologetic at Wendy's startled face, "I do apologize, Ms. Darling. I don't mean to intrude but Sarah Hawkins sent me you see. She said that Jim might be here?"

Wendy's face brightened. "Oh Sarah, yes of course! Is she all right? Jim told us about the fire."

Dr. Doppler looked relieved. "Yes…yes. She's all right. A bit worn, poor thing. But um…Jim wouldn't happen to be here…would he?"

Wendy glanced to the side. Jim glared back.

"You see…" Dr. Doppler continued, raising his voice and leaning slightly to follow Wendy's gaze, "...Sarah...well she _wishes_ Jim would go to school today, and there seemed to be a little…_spat_ over the matter before Jim left…And – ah! Well, speak of the devil!"

Rounding the corner, Jim stood beside Wendy. Michael appeared at his hip, eyes wide as Jim blocked the doorway. "Not going, Doc."

Dr. Doppler puffed out his cheeks. "Jim…" he said carefully, "Jim. Jim you're putting me in a very compromising situation. Your mother…"

"She ok?"

"Cried her eyes out after your left and fell asleep on the canapé," Dr. Doppler wrung his hands, glancing apologetically at Wendy. "Jim…I know last night was trying and it's not my place to force you—"

"So don't."

"—But," Dr. Doppler continued, "But I think a distraction may be just what the doctor ordered. Oh…" Dr. Doppler winked at Wendy, "Pardon the pun."

Jim shook his head, "Forget it."

"Jim…" Dr. Doppler rubbed his glasses, "Jim you can ride to _FSFTMS_ with me! All of your little friends can! Look Delilah is right over there with the carriage! Say hello Delilah! Good girl. See?"

Michael and John grinned. Jim raised an eyebrow. Dr. Doppler tried again.

"And don't forget, I will be in the school if you need me. Think of the bonding time, Jim. You'll be in my afternoon class!"

"Real comforting."

"Your mother will kill me if you don't go!"

"I'll take my chances."

"There's ice cream for lunch," Michael offered.

"It doesn't get better than that!" boomed Dr. Doppler.

Jim scowled.

"And," pressed Dr. Doppler, clearly fishing for a persuasive argument, "Ms. Darling will be in many of your classes I'm sure. She can introduce you to your new classmates…show you the ropes. Navigate you through all the high school melodrama…"

Jim didn't respond. Since the fire, he'd forgotten about that kid…Pan. The hot itch of anger returned as Jim inadvertently looked at Wendy. Recognizing the steely gaze, Wendy shook her head, horrified.

"Perhaps," she said, watching Jim, "perhaps tomorrow is a better day for Jim to start school. After all, Monday mornings s– "

"No. The Doc's right, Wen. I'm going." Resolutely, Jim looked ahead. Beyond the town and up the hill, a school bell was ringing. Jim clenched his fists. "I'm even looking forward to it."


	9. Chapter 9: The One and Only Pan

**Author's Note: Tried to make this one a good long chapter since it's been a while since my last update. Working full time on a clinical rotation...ya know how it is. Good news is that I'm also making a movie trailer for this story once it get's rolling. Next two chapters it will get very interesting. Enjoy this one. **

* * *

**Chapter Nine: The Clock, The Duck, and The One and Only Pan**

"Holy sh—"

"—Jim."

Ignoring Dr. Doppler's nettled expression, Jim leaned over the carriage railing. "Holy shit," he breathed quietly, unable to contain his awe, "Ho—ly shit."

_Fantasia School for the Magically_ _Skewed_ was massive; a massive castle, carved into the face of an iridescent stone cliff.

The enormous castle grew as the carriage rattled closer. Oblivious to the students staring from the sidewalk, Jim strained in his seat. The castle was so big, it was impossible to see around it. But from the looks of the clear blue backdrop, Jim guessed the other side held a one way ticket to a plummeting death.

"What's on the other side of the cliff?"

Dr. Doppler and Wendy looked ahead as the carriage rolled around a tight bend. From the corner, a lion pack growled.

"Nothing but a sheer drop into the sea, I suppose." Dr. Doppler finally said, his eyes glued on Wendy's impatient brothers. He relaxed as Wendy sat herself between their flying elbows.

"The whole north side of the building is raw stone. The only entrance is the headmaster's window, one hundred-eleven flights up. Which is a pitty," Dr. Doppler added enviously, "because he must have the most stunning view of the northern constellations in all Fantasia!"

"What's his name?"

"Who's name?"

Jim frowned, "The headmaster."

"Oh. Him." Dr. Doppler shrugged, "No idea. Left Delilah! Left girl!"

Jim looked at Wendy, adjusting Michael on her lap as the carriage veered left. "No one has ever seen the headmaster." she said simply.

Jim glanced at Dr. Doppler as he fumbled with the reins. "But Doc just said he lives in the north tower."

Wendy nodded. "Yes…but the north tower is forbidden. It's – oh dear!"

Jim and Wendy rocked as the carriage bumped and Dr. Doppler waved apologetically to scattering pedestrians. Jim sat up in his seat, still with more questions, but a shard of light blinded him. Shielding his eyes, Jim squinted once more to the opalesque castle. The stonework gleamed like a dark rainbow.

Jim lowered his arm. "What makes it shine like that?"

"Sea shells," said Dr. Doppler, recovered from his traffic incident, "Empirical evidence suggests that this region of Fantasia was once covered by miles and miles of ocean."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Evidence?"

"Oh yes my lad!" Dr. Doppler smiled. The carriage jerked as Delilah slowed to a trot. Around them, packs of students dodged the heavy wheels. Jim sunk his back against his seat as Dr. Doppler navigated the scene.

"The school was carved out of a mountain, you know. Scholars say the mountain is a composite of sea shells, basalt, and even sunken treasure! Oh there are countless distinctive features of the region that support the underwater theory. For instance, you and Sarah lived on the ocean, which is not too far west. And on the northwestern coast, which is adjacent to the school, mer descendants live –"

"Whoa. What? Mer _descendants_?"

The carriage bumped to a stop. Setting down the reins, Dr. Doppler looked pleased.

"Quiet so, Jim lad. Mer descendants."

In a scholarly sort of way, Dr. Doppler polished his spectacles on a shoulder sleeve. "The mer clan live north of the Benbow…er…well, they live in the Lagoon Sector. Quite an affluent bunch, very authoritative. And they all have some scale of mer blood, blue as the deep blue sea."

"And it's true!" Dr. Doppler insisted to Jim's disbelieving glower. "Most of them sprout a fishy tail when they touch the water– at least when they come of age, and if they are as fortunate! Oh come now Jim, let's not be suspecting, shall we? Why, several of your classmates are of mer lineage! One of them – Attina, she's a bit older – transformed into a mermaid for the first time last year at a swim meet! Gave us all quite a good scare. Oh, woof Jim it is the truth! Tell him Miss Darling."

Jim looked at Wendy. Unenthusiastically she consented. "It's true."

Dr. Doppler nodded triumphantly. "You see?"

Jim rolled his eyes and slumped out of the carriage. "Whatever."

"I'll see you fifth period!" Dr. Doppler called as Wendy, John and Michael joined Jim, "And bring your thinking cap! Remember Jim _– a happy scholar stands that much taller_!"

Wendy smiled behind her hand.

Jim shook his head. "Don't encourage him. Ok…now what?"

"Just a moment. Michael…" Kneeling Wendy hugged her little brother. She signaled to Jim, who knelt beside her.

"Now Michael." Wendy rubbed her brother's stomach, "I'll be there after school with Dr. Snow. So wait until then for the upset tummy. Promise?"

Michael nodded, but he looked doubtful. "My tummy wouldn't hurt if Teddy was with me. Teacher doesn't mind."

"But Teddy has to stay home because…because he goes to school too." Michael looked interested as Wendy lowered her voice secretively. "All of your toys come to life when the door is closed and people aren't looking."

"Really!?"

Jim grinned as Michael hugged them both and ran excitedly across the cobblestone toward a quaint fairytale-looking house covered in flowering vines.

"That's the elementary school." Wendy said, watching Michael join his classmates. Jim was surprised to see baby animals intermixed with the human children.

"Who's Dr. Snow?" Jim asked, as Michael entered the building with a chatty bear cub.

Wendy shouldered her bag as John joined a group of students. They all had tan skin, glossy black hair, and athletic bodies. As John approached, the group held up straight arms, then lowered them slowly with a chorus of, "Wingapo."

"Dr. Snow is the school nurse," Wendy answered as a short girl in pigtails offered John one of her ear-buds, "But he runs an extracurricular health clinic at the elementary school for pre-med students."

Jim stopped. "You're pre-med?"

Wendy looked uncomfortable. Scuffing her feet she mumbled, "Pediatrics…actually. I was thinking about…well I know it's awfully silly – "

"No, you should."

Wendy blinked. "Truly?"

Jim shrugged. "Why not? You like kids."

Wendy beamed as she and Jim wove between students. Jim tried not to make eye contact with anyone as he followed Wendy up stone steps, "You just write all the time." he said, "I thought you wanted to write kid's books or something."

Wendy considered, as if the idea had never occurred to her. "Well… it's merely a hobby I suppose. Speaking of the matter…"

Ducking her head and lowering her voice, Wendy said, "Your solar surfer?"

A painful spasm pulled across Jim's chest.

His solar surfer. He'd built it from scratch. It hadn't been kind to sore eyes, bent together with scrap metal and broken solar plates, but Jim had hammered his soul into that machine. A machine that was fast. A machine that was wild. A machine that was free.

"Gone." Jim said. He turned away, embarrassed that his voice had choked. Darkly, he trudged up the castle steps.

Wendy skipped steps to catch up. "Oh Jim…I'm sorry."

"No big. Thing was crap anyway."

"You know that's untrue."

"And you know I don't give a shit."

He turned in time to see her face fall. Releasing the tension in his shoulders, Jim sighed. "Come on…let's just get this damn day over with."

Stiffly, Wendy nodded and led Jim through the magnificent castle doors. Miserable as he was, Jim couldn't hold back a gasp as he and Wendy entered the main hall.

"This is called the Tunnel." Wendy said quietly as Jim gawked at the dark, glittering corridor. Copper pillars arched over their heads, crossing like tree branches and emptying into a gleaming canopy. Flickering lights sparkled over the metal.

"We think the lights are pixies. Or sprites. Or fireflies." said Wendy as Jim tried to track the flittering lights, "No one is certain what they are, but they keep the Tunnel lit. And…they're comforting."

Jim lowered his head. Wendy pretended to still be interested in the lights.

"Look…Wen—"

"Hey come on, keep it moving!"

Jim shuffled forward, glaring as a curly haired redhead shouldered past. The bow in her backpack nearly poked out his eye.

"Look, Wen…" Jim started again, moving to let students through. He waited, hoping they were out of earshot. "Look Wen, there's something else that happened last night. Something I didn't tell the Doc. Or Mom."

Wendy leaned forward, frowning at the secrecy in Jim's voice. "Something else? Something…bad?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Jim uncovered the metallic orb from his pocket. He handed it to Wendy. "I think so."

As they filed down the Tunnel hallway, Jim recounted the story of the dead sailor, Billy Bones.

"…then he said 'beware of the man with the metal hand.'" Jim finished as Wendy turned the golden orb over her palms, "Before…before he died."

Wendy closed her eyes. Thickly, she said, "How…how did he...?"

Jim put his hand behind Wendy's shoulder. Her knuckles were white, and the orb trembled between her fingers.

"Not sure…but it was sudden…and he gasped. Like…like someone had…"

Wendy shook her head, cutting Jim off. "Horrid," she breathed, holding the orb against her chest. "How horrid. How – oh!"

"Hey!"

Bumping forward, Jim knocked into Wendy. Both had been so preoccupied with the orb that neither had noticed the group of students stop ahead of them until they had collided.

"Whoa!"

"Jesus!"

Jim tripped, sending Wendy to her knees. Vaguely hearing the orb bounce against the stone floor, Jim stumbled and wacked his cheekbone against a sharp shoulder.

"Get off of me!"

A boy with fiery hair and black eyes shoved Jim away. "What's tha matter with you, Idiot."

Jim reeled. Angrily, he ripped the boy's fingers from his collar. They boy's eyes flared as two of his friends stepped forward.

Jim matched their glares. "Accident." he said curtly, reaching to help Wendy. "Chill out."

The boy with fiery red hair curled a lip. "Oh yeah, Rat-tail? Aladdin. Flynn. Did that sound like an apology to you? Cause it didn't sound like an apology to m—"

The boy stopped. His black eyes lowered to Wendy as she reached for the orb spinning out of reach. A huge grin split his face. Slowly he lifted a foot and placed it gently over Wendy's hand has she grasped the orb.

Jim and Wendy froze as the boy knelt to retrieve the orb. Jim was sure that no one had overhead them in the busy hallway, least of all this gang of three, but its dark advent was still fresh in his mind. He feared reacting too aggressively would give away everything.

But his caution stressed the moment. Suspiciously, Flynn and Aladdin approached Jim. Half listening to their interrogation, Jim watched the fiery haired boy coax the orb from Wendy's fingers. He grinned but Wendy looked away. With mock politeness, the boy offered his free hand as Wendy hurried to her feet.

Jim watched as the boy placed his hand gently over Wendy's back as she rose. Then, swift as a spider, the boy's fingers gave a little rub, a little pinch through the shirt, a little hook under the brastrap, pulled back and –

_Snap!_

Wendy spurred upright. Cheeks red, she backed into Jim. Horrified Wendy stared at the fiery haired boy and his snickering henchmen.

"Here." The boy held the orb at arms length. He tossed it playfully up and down before Wendy's trembling eyes, "You can have this…eh…" the boy looked meaningfully at his friends, unable to contain his laughter "… '_back!'_"

Wendy turned, but Jim caught her under the arm. Jim was beside himself.

"What the Hell?!"

The three boys stopped. Looking more interested than threatened, they considered Jim. Finally, the fiery haired boy spoke. He tossed the orb between his hands, still smiling. "Got a prob, Rat-tail?"

Jim stepped forward. "Apologize."

Flynn and Aladdin raised their eyebrows. But their fiery haired leader just smiled. "Come again?"

"You heard me." Jim squeezed Wendy's arm. "Apologize to her."

The boy's black eyes slid across Wendy's face. Wolfishly, he winked and grinned when she looked down. "For what?"

Jim advanced. Flynn and Aladdin followed suit. Students nearest were starting to notice. The smell of a fight was growing.

"Apologize." Jim growled, clenching his fists, "_Now_."

Wendy's fingers closed over his. Flynn and Aladdin also noticed and flocked their leader defensively.

"Pete, let's ditch."

"Yeah Pan…don't waste it on this monkey."

Jim tensed. His voice was acidic. "_You're Pan_?"

Peter Pan swelled like a king bullfrog. "The one and only. Heard of me, have you?"

Jim released Wendy's arm. "Yeah. Some."

In one stride, Jim seized Peter and shoved him against the copper pillars. Fireflies, fairies, twinkling lights or whatever scattered crazily as Peter grabbed Jim's wrists. With one violent shake, Jim dislodged Peter's grip.

"I said apologize to her jack ass!"

People started to holler and chant. The beautiful hallway turned into boxing ring as Flynn and Aladdin charged at Jim.

"Stop! No! Jim!"

Pushing through the crowd Wendy forced herself between Jim and Peter. "Jim don't! You don't need to!"

Jim faltered. Behind Wendy Peter's eyes were filled with hatred but alive with laughter.

Desperately, Wendy pressed her hands against Jim's shoulders. "Jim. Please. _Please!_ Let's go. Let's just g –"

"Children! Children! Stop with that infernal racket this instant! This instant I say!"

"QwwaadahhhhhbbbbbbwhaquqqwuaDOGGONEQwwaadahhhhhbb bbbbwhaquqqwua!"

"Children! Disperse! Disperse! Off with all of you! To the auditorium! And as for you young man…"

Jim turned.

Then he looked down.

Scowling up at him were two angry, authoritative looking faces. One of them was a clock. The other was a duck.

Jim ogled. The minute hand screwed to the clock's nose spun angrily. The duck ruffled his snow white feathers and squawked. "Gwwwwegt ywwwwr swwwwwry swelllllf twwwwwwwuuuu the ashwwwwwwwemblyyyy! Grrrrbwwwwulbbwwwulbbbwwwwwwuuuu!'

Jim blinked. "What?"

"Of all the cheek!"

Crossly, the clock pushed Jim's shin, separating him from Peter. "You heard Master Donald Duck quite clearly if I'm quarter to eight! Get your sorry self two the assembly!" The clock paused. "Grrrrbwwwwulbbwwwulbbbwwwwwwuuuu," he added irately.

"Sure thing Mater Cogsworth." Flynn and Aladdin grabbed their bags. "It's a good thing you came when you did. Saved Pete's life from this psycho creep."

The clock – Master Cogsworth - seemed unimpressed, but squinted at Jim as he shooed them away, "To the auditorium! Spit spot! Spit spot!"

Languidly, Peter brushed at his wrinkled shirt before pushing off the wall. The traveling lights seemed to converge shyly behind his fiery head. Casually on his way, Peter sauntered into Wendy. Wendy's mouth opened in shock as he passed, her hand hovering guilty over her jean pocket.

"Thong count." Peter hissed into Jim's ear. Gleefully, he tossed the metallic orb into the air before slipping it into his pocket. "Oh for one."

Jim made for Peter. But he was immediately intercepted by the school masters. Cornered by the disgruntled clock and duck, Jim watched uselessly as Wendy rushed away without a backwards glance.

"Spit spot!" Master Cogworth repeated as Master Donald clapped his wings. "To the auditorium! Time for the assembly! Special message from the headmaster. Spit spot!"


End file.
